


Pretty in Pink

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 19:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Brighid has some new lipstick.





	Pretty in Pink

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh i wanted to write more smooching

It’s another one of those slow mornings.

“New shade, Brighid?”

“What do you think, Lady Mòrag?”

“It suits you well.”

“That’s what you say about all of them.”

“Because it’s true.”

She watches Brighid’s reflection in the mirror as she applies her lipstick, more interested in the way the tube and her fingers move over her lips than the actual makeup. It’s soft pink, and a gentle matte, and that’s the most Mòrag can say about it when she’s this distracted.

“No further comments?”

Mòrag puts a fist to her chin in exaggerated thought. “Well… no one else would be able to distinguish it from the previous one you wore.”

“Hah, well, it’s not like I’m wearing it for anyone else.”

“I quite like that.”

“Who said anything about it being for you?”

She mentally stumbles. “I— ah, I mean—“

A frown. Then Brighid laughs hard, shoulders trembling. “I’m kidding.”

Mòrag feels the urge to grumble but restrains herself. She resumes getting dressed, taking her time with the intricate catches and clasps and gears of her boots and greaves that would drive any other person mad if they tried to make sense of it. And that’s not even taking the top half of her uniform into count. When she looks up again, Brighid is sauntering over her way.

She smiles with a rather undignified bemusement when Brighid sits upon her lap, who’s taking the opportunity while Mòrag has only managed to put on her pants and boots so far. The hip armor makes this sort of thing difficult, usually.

“There’s little point in being beautiful if there’s no one else to appreciate it,” Brighid purrs into Mòrag’s ear.

“Ah— yes. I think I know what you mean. Dahlia had said something similar.”

“Well, _Dahlia_ and I have different ideas about what it means to share that beauty.”

“Really?”

“I wanted to try something… different, with this new lipstick.”

“Which is?”

Mòrag forgets all about the rest of her uniform as Brighid loops her arms around her neck and leans in. Instinctively, her lips slightly part, but Brighid kisses her on the cheek instead.

Then she kisses Mòrag again, a bit lower.

Then on the opposite cheek.

And upon her jaw.

Below her earlobe.

Lower then, still.

It takes a moment for Mòrag to remember how to breathe; she softly chuckles and wraps her arms around Brighid’s waist while she’s busy pressing her lips to the crook of her neck, burning hands now upon her chest.

“I recall you once accusing _me_ of being shameless.”

“I’ll admit to being a hypocrite,” Brighid murmurs against her, her kiss to Mòrag’s collarbone lingering and deepening. That’s definitely going to leave a mark that a wet cloth won’t be able to wipe away. At least it would be hidden beneath her uniform. “Just this once.”

“Just this once,” Mòrag repeats, eyebrow raised.

“That’s right, Lady Mòrag.”

She only shakes her head and smiles, pulling Brighid closer to her. In the mirror, Mòrag can see all those neat little kiss marks upon her face. Pink. Sharing beauty, indeed.

“So, _now_ do you have any more comments about the color?”

“I’d say it may suit me as much as it suits you.”

“I think you’re right.”

Brighid lifts her head from where she’d been suckling at the sensitive skin over Mòrag’s throat. She gently takes Mòrag’s face in both hands, careful not to smear any of the kiss marks, and presses her lips to hers.

They don’t get to enjoy it very long. Loud knocking interrupts them.

“Wakey-wakey, you two! C’mon, we’re all raring to head out already!” Zeke shouts through the door.

“Ah— leave us! It will only be a minute!” Mòrag internally curses and contemplates punching Zeke’s gut later. She reluctantly helps Brighid stand. They don’t scramble, they’re much too dignified for that, but there is some sense of flustered hastiness in the way Mòrag puts on the rest of her uniform and the way Brighid wipes her face clean.

Mòrag definitely doesn’t seem terribly happy about that last part, but. Can’t be helped.

They join the others outside the inn. Nia raises a hand to them. “Moooornin’.”

“Good morning,” Mòrag nods. Then, before she can say anything else, Zeke opens his mouth.

“Hey, Mòrag, you got a…” He vaguely gestures, then squints. “Is that _lipstick_ on your neck?”

Ah. Brighid must have missed a spot in their hurry.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely lipstick! Cheeky thing, you were trying to hide it up with your collar!”

“Zeke, shut your mouth.”

“Ohh _hhh_ , no wonder you and Brighid were taking your sweet time this morning! Ha! Haha! How about that, the Flamebringer turned out to be a prude in the streets, but a freak in the—“

“Brighid, Form the Third.”

“Roger that, Lady Mòrag.”

The rest of the group helplessly watches on as Mòrag and Brighid chase Zeke down the street, swords ablaze.


End file.
